Priscilla
by BigBoss3
Summary: "I was told to find thee. I was told thee could help." By Gwyn, he tried to steel himself against her voice, to remember everything he was meant to do. Tried until his gaze fell upon her bare toes, peeping out from beneath white furs.


It wasn't very cold.

The only thought that she could grasp among the storm of worry was that it wasn't very cold. There was a chill, perhaps, creeping up her still limbs, but-

 _Where am I?_

Her fingers flexed lightly; empty. There was once a weapon in her hands, was there not? Always there, a useless thing, really, for she meant no harm to anything. Did she feel loss over it? After spending countless years twirling it about in the freeze, tracing it through the snow?

An eye fluttered, revealing greens and ambers unheard of, and what she saw before her was not the comforting dark and gentle white of her home, but an expanse of smooth beauty the likes of which she'd never dreamed.

 _Sunlight._

It streamed through the high, arcing windows, casting brilliant yellow upon everything. It stung a little, and frightened her.

Another tumultuous wave of fear washed over her; there were people here. More than a few, surrounding her. They wore white robes and masks and were...kneeling. Staring.

Though disoriented, she pried her cheek from the marble with a wince and rose up on wobbly legs, her feet bare and feeling sticky against the ground. A white tail curled and stretched about her. The people in white kept themselves kneeled as she swayed a bit, rubbing her sensitive eyes with the back of a trembling hand.

Another thought, perhaps the gravest. She felt weaker, perhaps even smaller, than what she had been.

Slowly, she padded to the figure closest to her, who stood up gracefully and by some miracle, matched her for height. She steeled her surprise and spoke.

"I-I beseech thee. Where hath I found myself?"

The white-clad figure did not respond. She tried again.

"Thou art...unmannerly, and should break silence." She did, by the Gods, mean to sound steadfast and powerful, but the words came out like a whimper.

Silence, but the figure rose a hand and pointed past her. She turned to look.

A painting. A huge, snowy expanse. Just eyeing it made her feel a familiar freeze.

 _Ariamis. That was the name of the artist, wasn't it?_

Her endless, lonely home. Somehow living in the thick canvas. Abandoned and locked away. Forgotten.

Tears threatened to fall, but she looked back at the pointing robes with an expression of calm and knowing.

"Doth thee know where I should go?"

At that, the figure began to walk away. She stared for a moment, not sure if she were meant to follow, until the robes disappeared behind a monolithic pillar. Tail moving about nervously, she walked quickly to catch up.

* * *

Walking through the corridors and across the balconies of the white city, she found herself repeatedly falling behind her guide.

 _The size of it all! The artistry, and the sun, cast upon the ornate peaks and plunges of a place meant for Gods!_

She could not keep herself from regularly halting to look at a stained window or the marble beneath her feet, or that brilliant sunlight, forever setting.

She found the spiral elevator the most astounding, though hesitant to step on it herself. The contraption made a rusty sound as it went into motion, sending them up many stories, until coming to a smooth halt. She stepped off quickly, her stomach fluttering, and stared out at the sun-washed structures from new heights.

"How joyful thee must be, to abide in such a place," She said quietly to her guide as they continued on, towards a narrow stairwell that led down into a magnificent building. The crackle of warmth was unmistakable.

Naked feet slowly descending, she gasped when something new came into view.

A small fire burning lazily, glowing preternaturally. In the center, a sword pierced into the ground, the hilt being licked by flames.

"First, the Chosen Undead and now, if my eyes aren't bewitched...a girl with a tail."

The aforementioned girl took in a quick breath and spun to meet the voice.

A woman, a woman _warrior!_ Clad in polished brass and face obscured by the same shining metal.

"Well, Priscilla? Does Alvina have hold of your tongue?" The she-Knight crossed her arms and rested against the far wall.

"Of whom doth thee speak?" Priscilla asked, confused beyond herself. "M-my tongue?"

"I had imaginings of what you could look like, my lady, but they did no justice. You are a sublime, virgin snow upon this lost city." The woman gave a small nod to Priscilla's guide. The figure bowed, and left with haste. "Though, you're much smaller than I'd predicted. Now, how ever did you get here?"

"Doth thee not know?" She fisted a nervous hand into the decadent fur of her skirts, moving towards the knightess with a knitted brow.

"How would I know, my lady? I am but a humble fire keeper. I care for the flames and offer rest to the forlorn travelers of this melancholy land. I make the business of others none of mine. But..." She paused, cocking her glinting visage towards Priscilla, "...if I were to push you in any sort of direction, it would be well beyond the walls of Anor Lo-"

"Thou-"

"My lady, formalities are _wasted_ upon me."

Priscilla opened her mouth to rebuke, but felt too short of wit. She instead moved closer to the bonfire and sighed, waiting for the woman to continue her discourse.

"These are dark times, but blessed hope has been realized. Seek out the Chosen Undead. A man who has braved the lowest depths of Lordran, conquered foes beyond your ken, who possesses great knowledge gained from his many trials."

"How would I know such a man if ever our paths met?"

"Oh, I think he'd know you; take no offense, but one would have to be blind not to question a girl with hair and tail of white, or silver scales peppered along brow." The knightess laughed softly, but Priscilla could hear no malice in it. But there was a bitterness there, perhaps envy.

"Do you think me proud of my appearance?"

The fire keeper was silent for a moment, before slowly reaching up to her helm. She lifted it off. Priscilla held in a fearful gasp.

"No, I do not think you proud. I think you are beautiful." She kept her hollow eyes on Priscilla as she replaced her armor. "Outside of this chamber, there is a path to the right. Take it, and move swiftly through the gauntlet that awaits you. Either you will find him, or he will find you." She moved towards the trembling girl, untying a leather scabbard from her hip. "Take this. Shouldn't be too heavy. Keep yourself quick and nimble and it should do just fine." The knightess held out the weapon and Priscilla took it guardedly, long fingers inspecting the sizable hilt with curiosity.

"I-I am eternally grateful for thy kindness," she whispered, smiling tenderly.

She meant it, for anyone who lived in such a state and could still find within themselves to help a stranger in dire need...

"Think nothing of it, my lady. Now, off you go."

Priscilla nodded, tied the scabbard about herself and started back up the stairs, a stirring in her chest.

Could she now consider the knightess a friend? Was their encounter fruitful enough to warrant that?

She decided that it was. She had made a friend. The first. Maybe she could find a cure for whatever it was that ailed her.

But what of the man she'd spoken of? How was she to travel, with no knowledge of the vast kingdom she found herself in? What if this warrior looked upon her as foe?

Her confidence ebbed away with each step as she crossed the open balcony, stopping to look out at the bright sky once more.

Priscilla had wanted to be free of her frozen bounds, to leave the world which she'd been thrown into, living among things not so different from herself. Things that _never should have been._ _._


End file.
